


You Should Know By Now

by Hazel_Athena



Series: Mutual Mistakes [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, oblivious boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: As a boy, Nicolo’s mother once told him he had no knack for expressing himself through words.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Mutual Mistakes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892959
Comments: 55
Kudos: 600





	You Should Know By Now

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here’s Nicolo’s POV of Merrily We Roll Along aka an entire fic of him screaming internally while Yusuf is, however unintentionally, a bit of a dick.

As a boy, Nicolo’s mother once told him he had no knack for expressing himself through words.

She’d meant no insult when she’d said it, leaning over to ruffle his hair and press a gentle kiss to his forehead all in the same breath, but she’d stood by it all the same. They’d both already known, even that early on, that he was better suited to letting his actions speak for him as opposed to anything else.

And truly, for a long time this wasn’t a problem. His parents, his siblings, his friends - they all knew he cared for them by the deeds he performed, able to read his intentions and his meaning through something as simple as a hand clasped over a shoulder or a flower offered as a gift on a clear summer’s day. 

Later, much, much later, it will dawn on him that he should have put more effort into learning how to use his words as well.

*****

Yusuf al-Kaysani is unlike any man Nicolo has ever met. Part of that is to be expected, of course, seeing as they come from wildly different backgrounds and cultures, to say nothing of their unique talent for survival, but at the same time it’s something more.

Yusuf is a law unto himself. He is gregarious and brazen, with a booming laugh that rings out whenever and wherever he pleases. Once they have enough words in common, he talks a mile a minute, spinning tales and spitting phrases that Nicolo has to rush to keep up with. He jokes, he teases, he pokes and prods until he gets a reaction out of Nicolo, and he always, always seems happy when he does so.

He is also good, so good, and more noble than Nicolo could ever hope to be. Of the two of them, he was the first who was able to put their differences aside after they’d each killed each other more than a dozen times over, offering up his hand to Nicolo even while there was still a knife buried between his shoulder blades.

Nicolo had taken his hand without thinking, but in that moment he’d known he’d never turn towards the other man in violence again.

That had been years ago, back when they’d forged a newly minted truce between them, bound together by circumstances neither of them could explain. They’d shared not a single word in common, and yet had come together like it was fate, like it was meant to be.

They are still together to this day as friends, companions, and brothers in arms, but at the same time they are so much more. Indeed, what Nicolo feels for Yusuf is unlike anything he ever has before, and he thinks, or at least he hopes, that the other man feels the same way.

It’s this feeling that makes him begin to want to press the issue one night when they’re camping alongside an empty road. They’re in between jobs at the moment, having only recently finished shepherding a caravan of merchants along their intended trade route, and now they’re considering their next move.

They’ve built up a decent sized fire, and their bellies are full thanks to the brace of rabbits they’d snared earlier in the evening. Lazily, Nicolo watches the flames crackle in the pit they’ve constructed, content in a way he only gets when it’s just the two of them.

For his part, Yusuf is a comfortable weight pressed up against him. They’re sitting side by side like usual, but where Nicolo is lounging back and letting his head tip to the side, Yusuf is hunched forward, all of his concentration on the parchment he has spread out over his knee.

He does this whenever he can, takes charcoal to paper and wiles away the hours creating sketches, the details of which only he knows because Nicolo has never asked to see them, a fact that only dawns on him in this moment.

Nicolo sits up a little straighter, suddenly intrigued. He glances at Yusuf out of the corner of his eye, noting fondly the way his bottom lip is caught between his teeth in concentration, and clears his throat. Then, when that doesn’t work, he asks if he might see what his companion is working on.

“What?” Yusuf asks, and it’s obvious from his voice that he’s surprised by the request. He shifts away slightly, using an arm to block his work from sight.

Nicolo frowns, wondering if he’s inadvertently overstepped a boundary he wasn’t aware existed. “You’re always drawing,” he says finally, able to tell that Yusuf wants an answer just by looking at him. He motions towards the parchment. “I only wondered if I might take a look.”

Yusuf looks down at the parchment, his expression unreadable in a way it normally isn’t. He’s quiet long enough that Nicolo is about to apologize and tell him to forget the whole matter when he speaks.

“It’s not finished yet,” he says, his unspoken meaning plain. However, then he adds, “There are others in my pack. Would you like to see them instead?”

Relieved, Nicolo nods and can’t help the way his mouth curves up into a smile when Yusuf leans over to grab for his pack. He watches as long, delicate fingers slip into the necessary pocket before emerging with a number of carefully preserved pages.

“They’re nothing special,” Yusuf says, unusually modest. “I’m hardly a professional.”

Nicolo barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Have you ever seen me with a brush in hand?” He asks, still chuckling when Yusuf shakes his head no. “And nor do you want to. Art is not a talent I possess. Come,” he adds when Yusuf continues to keep hold of the papers. “Let me see. Please.”

Nodding, Yusuf offers up his hand. Not wanting to damage anything, Nicolo takes the papers carefully, spreading them out over his lap so he can look.

There are about a dozen all told, though he knows Yusuf has done many more in the time they’ve travelled together. Idly, he wonders by what criteria the other man chooses the pieces he keeps.

Nicolo lets his eyes roam over the various pages, fascinated by how lifelike they are. Unable to stop himself, he reaches down to trace a finger along the lines depicting a series of trees that had covered one of their more recent campsites. 

“These are beautiful,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “They look real enough to touch.”

“Hardly,” Yusuf scoffs next to him. “They’re nothing. Just the scribbles of an amateur.”

Unthinking, Nicolo flicks him lightly on the nose with the paper he’s currently holding. “You shouldn’t say such things,” he scolds, knowing talent when he sees it. “I said they’re beautiful, so they are.”

Of course, what he actually means is _you’re beautiful_. The drawings are lovely, far beyond anything Nicolo would ever be capable of creating, but they pale in comparison to the man who’d brought them to life.

He almost says as much, right then and there, but he also knows he doesn’t have the words to do his feelings justice. Still, he thinks as Yusuf smiles back at him, his face easy to see thanks to the firelight, it seems possible they may already be on the same page.

*****

They are not at all on the same page. 

Feeling not unlike someone who’s just had a rug tugged out from underneath him, Nicolo watches numbly as Yusuf traipses across the marketplace, making straight for the woman who’d mere moments ago been batting her eyes at him.

He keeps looking for longer than is appropriate, trying not to glare as the two strike up an easy conversation, quickly bantering back and forth as if they’ve known each other for years.

“If you hold those any tighter they are going to bruise,” a new voice cuts in, and when Nicolo looks down he finds the old woman whose stall he’s at staring back at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She rolls her eyes in a way that most people would consider to be impolite. “The peaches,” she says, nodding towards the fruit Nicolo has clutched in his hands. “You’re going to ruin them if you don’t loosen your grip.”

Belatedly realizing what she’s talking about, he switches his gaze to the food, noting that he is most assuredly holding them too tightly. Indeed, the thumbnail of his left hand has already started digging into the soft skin.

“My apologies,” Nicolo mumbles, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. “I’ll take both, of course. For the damage.”

The old woman eyes him with something far too close to pity for his liking. She accepts his coin wordlessly, watching quietly as he slips his purchases into the bag he has hanging over one shoulder.

Adjusting the strap carefully, he makes the mistake of glancing back in Yusuf’s direction, sucking in a heavy breath when he spots him still in conversation with the cookware seller. He’s leaning in towards her, a wide smile on his face, and it doesn’t take a genius to see where things are heading.

A sudden tap on his elbow startles Nicolo out of his reverie, and he once again finds the old woman he’s just been dealing with staring at him. She eyes him for several long moments and then sighs. 

“You do yourself no favours by standing here mooning at him,” she says, speaking slowly as if she’s interacting with a particularly dim child. “The best way to get your point across is to say something.”

Nicolo gapes at her, horrified that a complete stranger has read his emotions so perfectly. Not caring how it might look, he begins to step back from the stall. “I’m -“ he stammers. “I need to go.”

He turns then and flees into the crowd that’s thronging the marketplace. His thoughts going a mile a minute, he sidesteps around his fellow passersby, barely managing to avoid trampling some of them in his haste to be anywhere but where he is.

Moving without thinking, he finds himself back at the inn where they’ve been staying, tromping up the steps to their room with little idea of where else he might go. He’d thought they would have a quiet evening with it being only the two of them, but that clearly is no longer an option.

He drops his satchel down onto the tiny table in the corner of the room, taking a seat in one of the two mismatched chairs as he does so. Working the clasp on the bag, he flips it open so he can withdraw the two peaches he’s now obtained against his better judgement.

As he’d expected his rough treatment has reduced them to something he has no desire to eat. He’d be annoyed, but he’d really only been looking at them for Yusuf’s benefit as he’s the one who prefers the things. Seeing as he’s now occupied elsewhere, the entire purchase was a moot point.

Huffing, Nicolo leans back in his seat. He’ll dispose of the peaches shortly - the last thing he wants is them left in the room to rot - but for just a moment he thinks he’s going to indulge in a well-deserved sulk.

It has never occurred to him to ask Yusuf his preferences when it came to intimate partners, and in hindsight he realizes how foolish that was. Just because this is the first time during their acquaintance that he’s seen Yusuf show interest in a woman doesn’t mean he shares Nicolo’s proclivities. Indeed, they’ve spent time apart before, perhaps he’s bedded any number of woman when left to his own devices.

That thought does nothing to improve Nicolo’s mood, and he stands abruptly, needing to move. It’s getting late enough that he can justify an early supper, and the fare put forward by the innkeeper the previous night was decent if a little bland. He’ll get something to eat and maybe that will help.

*****

It does not help. The food, although it looks fine on the outside, turns to ash in his mouth and the wine that accompanies it appears to have been made from the most sour of grapes. He’s had more enjoyable meals while living in festering camps during the crusade.

A few of the other patrons try to engage him in light conversation, and the innkeeper’s wife tells him there are sweets hidden away in the back if he feels like dessert. Unfortunately, rather than improve his mood all this does is remind him of the company he is not presently keeping.

Not wanting his maudlin behaviour to impact others, Nicolo retires to his room as the sun starts to set outside. Once there he strips down to his underthings and does some stretching exercises to try and work the tension out of his muscles. Then, _after_ that fails, he takes his sword out of its scabbard and proceeds to thoroughly detail the blade even though it has no need of such treatment.

The sun has well and truly set by the time he’s finished this last task, still with no sign of Yusuf returning. Grumpily, Nicolo sets a candle burning in the holder located between the room’s two beds, wondering if he should expect the other man back at all.

He prepares for bed without even realizing what he’s doing, going through the motions by rote memory. Settling down on the threadbare mattress, he considers blowing out the candle, even though he’s well aware his mind is not going to quiet enough to let him sleep. 

In the end he decides to try yet another distraction. Yusuf, ever the scholar at heart, has a habit of picking up books while they travel. He rarely keeps them long, not wanting to bog them down with unnecessary items, but he always has at least one or two on hand, and there’s a long-standing offer in place that says Nicolo’s welcome to them if he so chooses.

Usually Nicolo leaves them alone, and when he is in the mood he tends to opt for cajoling Yusuf into reading aloud to him, as it rarely takes much prodding to get him to do so. That’s not an option tonight, however, so Nicolo draws the latest tome free from Yusuf’s pack before settling back against his pillows. 

He has retained absolutely nothing by the time he hears the sound of familiar footsteps moving along the hallway outside their room. Beside him, the candle has begun burning low in its holder, yet it still sheds more than enough light for him to see as their door slowly creaks open.

Ducking his head down quickly so as to avoid having it look like he was staring, Nicolo pretends to be thoroughly engrossed in the book in his hands. If only he could remember literally anything of what it’s about.

Yusuf makes a surprised noise as he comes all the way inside. “You’re up late,” Nicolo hears him murmur.

Refusing to look up lest his thoughts somehow show themselves on his face, Nicolo shrugs one shoulder and makes a show of flipping a page in his book. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says. “I guess I’m used to having you snoring nearby.”

“I don’t snore,” Yusuf protests, which is a blatant falsehood. He does, albeit not as loudly as some, it just doesn’t bother Nicolo and never has.

They bicker back and forth for a few moments, before Nicolo forces himself to look up. “How was your evening?” He asks, promptly calling himself six different kinds of foolish in his own head for opening up that particular can of worms.

If Yusuf notices anything amiss in his tone, though, he doesn’t show it. “Very good, thank you,” he says, speaking the same way he might of a trip to the market. “I can think of far worse ways to pass the time.”

 _So can I_ , Nicolo thinks despondently. He watches as Yusuf sits down on his bed to begin undressing, feeling vaguely like a voyeur as he toes off his boots and proceeds to make quick work of his tunic.

He squirms awkwardly as Yusuf’s broad shoulders, the muscular expanse of his back become visible, and his abrupt need for a distraction is the only explanation for what next comes out of his mouth. “Will you see her again?”

 _That_ makes Yusuf turn around sharply. “No,” he says, voice blunt. “Why would I?”

“You bedded her,” Nicolo replies. He tries and no doubt fails to keep his voice nonchalant. “I’m going to assume that means you liked her company.”

Yusuf makes a face he can’t parse out and turns away again. “It was just sex, Nicolo. I wanted a good fuck and so did she. Now that we’ve both gotten what we were after that will be the end of it.”

“Oh,” Nicolo says, feeling like he’s overstepped. “I see.”

That’s a lie, of course. He doesn’t see what’s so alluring about a few hours spent with a complete stranger, but then again his desires have been thoroughly entangled with Yusuf for ages now. How could someone he barely knows compare to that?

Yusuf is silent for several moments, and Nicolo again suspects he’s pushed too far. Then Yusuf speaks, and his suspicion turns to certainty.

“Do you have a problem with it?”

Yusuf’s voice is soft when he asks the question, tentative in a way the man rarely is, if ever. It leaves Nicolo feeling flush with guilt, appalled at himself for letting his jealousy get the better of him.

“Of course I don’t have a problem with it,” he lies. If Yusuf’s interests turn elsewhere then so be it. Nicolo will not see him feeling like he’s done something wrong when nothing could be further from the truth.

Needing to put an end to this conversation, Nicolo makes a show of putting down the book he’s still holding. Then he shuffles underneath his blankets, rolling over so that his own back is now to Yusuf, lest he give himself away through the expression on his face. “You deserve whatever makes you happy.”

He thinks he might hear Yusuf murmur something too low for him to make out, but when nothing further comes he decides it must have been his imagination.

*****

Yusuf seduces a barmaid in the next place they stop. After that comes another woman in a marketplace, then a weaver, and then worst of all is an artist whose work he compliments, prompting her to do the same in return. Nicolo bristles inwardly every time, and tries without success not to picture the resulting outcomes.

Outwardly, at least, he’s able to remain calm. He doesn’t say anything when Yusuf flits off with his latest conquests, nor does he offer up any commentary when Yusuf disappears with a clear intent to go seek out a new bed partner. After all, Nicolo isn’t always present when he meets them.

A facade is just a facade, however, and in reality Nicolo is left awash with jealousy every time he has to watch Yusuf sweep into the arms of someone who is not him. He spends so much time with his jaw clenched these days, he’s surprised his teeth haven’t cracked.

Still, he persists on keeping his feelings tightly coiled within his own chest. It would be unfair of him to force them on Yusuf at this point and might even make things so awkward between them that’d he’d wish to stop travelling together. Since Nicolo is incapable of imagining a worse fate, he keeps quiet.

Yusuf too, thanks be to God and all His graces, doesn’t bring the matter up again. Oh, he certainly doesn’t stop his behaviour, but he makes no move to discuss it with Nicolo after the first time. It seems having received his implicit permission was more than enough.

Sometimes, or, indeed, often if Nicolo is being honest with himself, he finds himself imagining a scenario where his feelings are reciprocated. In his mind he plays out an alternate ending to that night in the inn, one where he notes that he does, in fact, have a problem with Yusuf’s actions and why. Because it’s a fantasy the end result is always more pleasant than reality, but fantasy can only do so much.

If Yusuf senses these feelings of consternation he doesn’t show it, a fact for which Nicolo is eternally grateful. On the other hand, Yusuf’s general obliviousness can most definitely get on his nerves at times.

For instance, the day he suggests that Nicolo should visit a bathhouse in order to make himself more palatable to prospective suitors, he has no idea how close he comes to getting punched in the jaw. One moment they’re joking together amicably, and the next Nicolo feels as if all the air has been sucked out of his lungs.

“I have no interest in that sort of thing,” he says tersely, unable to maintain his usual demeanour of studied nonchalance in the face of Yusuf’s teasing grin. “None whatsoever.”

Yusuf’s grin fades, and Nicolo mentally curses himself for letting his true emotions get so close to the surface. He’s done so well up to this point, he can’t have everything boil over now.

“Nicolo,” Yusuf says quickly, contrition written all over his face. “Forgive me. I did not mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” Nicolo says just as quickly. Yusuf’s hand is rising slowly, likely with the intent to offer comfort, and words cannot describe how poorly equipped Nicolo is to handle such a thing from him in this moment. He steps back out of reach. “I’m sorry, I ... I’m tired from the road, is all. I think I’ll try to nap while you’re out.”

He wants to laugh as the words leave his mouth. He may try any number of things to distract himself when Yusuf leaves him in times such as these; not once has he ever been successful in the attempt.

Yet what else can he do? He does his best to sound properly supportive, encourages Yusuf not to forsake his plans just because Nicolo has no interest in them, and then watches forlornly as he’s left behind once again.

As the door closes shut behind his friend’s back, it takes everything Nicolo has not to rail against the injustice of being stuck in another nameless tavern with only his thoughts for company. He waits until he thinks it’s been long enough and then yells his frustrations into the nearest available pillow.

*****

Yusuf doesn’t stay out long that evening, and Nicolo breathes a sigh of relief when he returns without any of the usual signs that he’s been partaking in someone else’s company. His thick, dark curls are as under control as ever, his clothing isn’t mussed, and, best of all, he doesn’t have another person’s scent trailing over him where Nicolo can come across it.

They don’t speak about the afternoon’s incident, but Nicolo sleeps better than he has in weeks.

*****

Truth be told, Nicolo isn’t sure if things would have ever come to a head if Yusuf hadn’t inadvertently taken matters out of his hands.

They’re staying in a place that’s little more than a hut on the outskirts of a farm. The owner has permitted them to use it in exchange for some work done mending fences that she cannot manage on her own, and it gives them a slight reprieve as they determine where they want to go next.

The hut is tiny, containing little more than a table and two beds that have seen better days. Still it’s a roof over their heads and a decent enough place to sleep after a hard days work.

On top of that, they finish the fence fairly quickly, but are not immediately turned away. Instead, they’re told to take as much time as they feel like, and if she has any more work for them the owner will let them know.

They spend the next few days not doing much of anything, content to get a little relaxation in while they enjoy each other’s company. Times like these are typically Nicolo’s favourites, ones where he knows that he and he alone has Yusuf’s attention. 

Having said that, they can’t remain here forever, and even if they were to try they would still need to restock their supplies from time to time.

He says as much as he’s shrugging into his cloak one afternoon, figuring he might need or at least want the extra layer of protection if the chill in the air is anything to go by. “Did you want to come with me?”

Yusuf, who up until now has been busy rendering a sketch of the farm’s closest fields, frowns in contemplation. It’s obvious he’s torn between the two possibilities, and Nicolo is forced to take pity on him.

“Never mind,” he says, laughing as he curls a hand fondly around the back of Yusuf’s neck. “You enjoy your art and I’ll see you when I get back.”

He feels Yusuf twitch beneath his hand, almost like he’s leaning into the touch, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on Nicolo’s part. “It’s not art,” he says as Nicolo pulls away. “Just scribbles.”

Nothing Yusuf creates is ‘just’ anything in Nicolo’s opinion, but he’s in a carefree mood and doesn’t want to ruin it by responding too seriously. “Scribble me something nice then,” he directs with a wink.

Slipping out the door before Yusuf can respond, he points himself in the direction of the town and starts walking. 

The air feels heavy as he moves, and Nicolo tightens his cloak around himself against the crisp temperature. He doesn’t mind travelling in poor weather when he has no other choice, but he’s less keen on it when he’s not actually required to be anywhere. Today therefore has him second guessing his desire to go all the way into town.

On the other hand, Yusuf will no doubt tease him unmercifully if he turns back so quickly, especially if he returns empty handed after he said he was planning to pick up some supplies. Given this, Nicolo resolves to get at least some of the items they require.

The town is a bit of a hike, but not so far as to exhaust him in the trip. He picks up a few foodstuffs and some other things, but the phantom feeling of rain in the air spurs him onwards, making him cut his stay short as he’d feared it might. 

He sets a brisk pace upon returning to the farm, not wanting to get caught out in anything that might occur. As such, the little hut swims into view faster than he had anticipated, and he can already picture the way Yusuf will mock him about hurrying back in order to keep from getting wet.

Smiling to himself, Nicolo begins undoing his cloak before he’s even cleared the threshold, meaning that his vision is obscured upon his arrival. Shifting to get it out of the way, he automatically moves to hang it from the hook by the door, only to freeze when he notices the tableau in front of him.

Yusuf is in the hut, but he is far from alone.

“Nicolo,” he says, eyes huge as he ducks out of the embrace of his very _male_ companion, a plain enough man who has the audacity to have his hands on Yusuf’s hips. “You’re back early.”

There’s a roaring in Nicolo’s ears, over which he hears himself say that it felt like rain. He can’t take his eyes off the stranger in their midst, and there is a weight like a stone settling in the pit of his stomach as it dawns on him just how much he’s misunderstood over these past few months.

Distantly he hears the interloper mention something about needing to leave, and Nicolo watches with a strange sort of disinterest as he edges carefully around Yusuf before making a break for the door. It slips shut behind him with barely a sound, almost as if he’d never been there in the first place.

But he had been there. Nicolo hasn’t imagined it, and his voice is flat when he focuses back on Yusuf. “That was a man,” he says, amazed by how level his tone is when all he wants to do is scream at the injustice of it all. “You bed men.”

He thinks the second part of that statement, the ‘You bed men, but you won’t bed me’, goes unspoken, but who’s to say. It’s clear he’s missed much of late.

For his part, Yusuf cocks his head to one side, looking contemplative. “Y-es,” he says drawing the word out slowly. “Men, women, it makes no difference to me,” he continues on, apparently unable to see the way he’s crushing Nicolo’s heart in the process. “You knew that though.”

Nicolo can’t help it, he laughs, a sound that is anything but happy. “No, Yusuf, I most assuredly did not _know_ that. Believe me, had I had even the slightest inkling that you had such interests I would have been handling this whole situation even more poorly than I have been.”

Yusuf takes a step back at these words. It’s obvious he can tell Nicolo is bothered by more than having stumbled over him in a compromising position, but equally clear he doesn’t see why this should be the case. He tries to ask Nicolo his meaning, but Nicolo simply cannot bear the thought of discussing it now.

“No,” Nicolo says as firmly as he can muster. Blindly, he reaches for the cloak he had so casually discarded upon his return, needing something to do with his hands. “I can’t talk about this with you right now, and I can’t be here either.”

“I’m going back out,” he says, as if his intention were not already made plain by his actions. “Do not follow me.”

Yusuf sucks in a heavy breath at these words. He looks stricken in a way that would normally have Nicolo rushing to comfort him, but here and now that’s not an option. Giving him one last look, Nicolo turns on his heel and heads back outside.

*****

 _It should be raining_ , Nicolo thinks as he traverses the fields like a man in a daze. He’d been so certain it was going to earlier, had expedited his return for that very reason, and instead the skies are clearing like they’d never intended otherwise. He feels an irrational stab of anger for the fact that not even the weather can cooperate with him in his misery.

Yusuf would likely tell him there’s something poetic about it all, the bastard.

Ugh, Yusuf, the mere thought of the man is enough to turn Nicolo’s stomach at the moment. There is simply no way he’s going to let the afternoon’s events lie, which means Nicolo is going to have to come clean with every sordid detail for why he’d turned tail and run.

Or not exactly _sordid_ , he supposes. After all, it’s now readily apparent that Yusuf has no issue with lying with men as well as women. That much has become abundantly clear, so at least it won’t be an issue.

“Men, yes. You, not so much,” Nicolo reminds himself, kicking at a tuft of grass that’s admittedly done nothing to merit his ire. Of course, given the way his day is going, his foot catches in a rut and he nearly winds up sprawling on the ground to add insult to injury.

“Truly, this day cannot get any worse,” he groans. Stomping over to a couple of nearby trees, he sinks down with a huff, letting the rough bark dig into his shoulders as he replays recent events in his mind.

It’s just that it’s all so very unfair. He has finally (for the most part) made his peace with the fact that Yusuf is bound and determined to personally woo every eligible woman they come across. At least up until now he could comfort himself with that fact that it was _only_ women and that was why he himself was being ignored. Now, however, he’s faced with an abundance of new ways in which to feel wholly inadequate.

“He wasn’t even that attractive,” Nicolo says, letting his head fall back against the tree trunk with an irritated grunt. It’s a lie, the man _had_ been attractive but not so much so that he felt it should matter. “Probably can’t even handle a sword, either.”

Inwardly, he scoffs at his own pettiness and wonders what Yusuf would say if he could hear him. It’s unlikely he’d tease him, not about this, but he can’t imagine he paints a particularly alluring picture, sulking as he is.

He wonders then, even though it’s a path he knows he should avoid, why Yusuf prefers the company of complete strangers to his own. Is he so repulsive as to not warrant so much as a second glance?

That’s an unfair thought and he knows it. Yusuf may not be interested in him as a lover, but he’s made it more than clear that Nicolo is very dear to him. So much so that Nicolo had misinterpreted the signs all those months ago and thought perhaps he’d wanted something more.

“Shows what you know,” he grouses. He pauses then, half expecting someone to pop up with a response, but the field remains utterly silent.

Sighing, he rests his chin on his knees and resolves to get himself under control.

*****

Nicolo stays away for as long as he can. Unfortunately, he’s got none of what he needs to make a proper camp, and the setting sun tells him he should start heading back. As tempting as it may be to spend the whole night outside stewing in his own angst, doing so really would be an instance of biting off his nose to spite his face.

Groaning, he lurches to his feet, dreading Yusuf’s inevitable comments with every step he takes. As much as Nicolo might want to pretend they can choose to ignore what’s happened, he knows better than to think there’s any chance of Yusuf letting it go.

It’s nearly dark by the time he slinks back to the hut, but there’s a faint light illuminating the outline of the door which tells him Yusuf is awake and waiting for him. Mentally girding his loins, he slowly eases it open, prepared to meet his inevitable fate.

Yusuf has his back to him when he first enters, but he turns as soon as he realizes he’s no longer alone. Nicolo winces at the look on his face. “Ah,” he says dumbly. “You’re still here.”

Rather than tease Nicolo for pointing out the obvious like he normally would, Yusuf shrugs. “You told me not to follow you,” he says dully. “I was respecting your wishes.”

Nicolo forces himself to offer up a smile he’s sure looks nothing like the real thing. “Of course,” he says, slowly removing his cloak and once again draping it over the hook near the door. “I know I can always count on you to do that.”

“Do you?” Yusuf demands, catching him off guard. He shifts from foot to foot, putting Nicolo in mind of a cornered animal that’s ready to strike. “Then can I count on you to do the same?”

“I - of course,” Nicolo says. He’s not sure where this conversation is going to go, but that much at least he wants to make clear. “Yusuf, if this is about how I ... reacted earlier I -“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Yusuf starts speaking over him. “Of course it’s about how you reacted earlier,” he hisses. “I deserve better than this, Nicolo. Just because your people take a poor view of my lifestyle doesn’t make it any less valid than your own.”

What lifestyle? Nicolo wants to ask, and which people? However, when he tries as much Yusuf simply cuts him off again.

“Your people,” he repeats, now sounding miserable. “The ones who take issue with how I prefer men as well as women.”

“My - ?” Nicolo’s feels his eyes go wide without his permission, wondering what this of all things has to do with the day’s events. “No, please,” he tries, “if you would just let me speak for a moment -“

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” Yusuf shoots back. Crossing his arms over his chest defensively, he meets Nicolo’s steadily. “And by the way, I’m not leaving. If you have a problem with me then you can be the one to go sleep out in the elements.”

“Yusuf, you are beginning to try my patience,” Nicolo says, his own voice rising against his will. “Would you just let me speak for one blessed second?!”

“Well that’s what it is, isn’t it?” Yusuf demands. “You found my behaviour annoying and crude when you thought it was only women I was laying with, but now that you know the truth you think it’s disgusting.”

It dawns on Nicolo, very belatedly, what the actual problem is, and when it does he feels a strong urge to go knock his head against the nearest wall. “Yusuf, you absolute imbecile!” He groans. “I am not upset because you are sleeping with men, I am upset because you are sleeping with men who are not _me_.”

The sudden silence is deafening. Neither of them says anything for at least a full minute until Yusuf manages to blink himself out of their shared stupor. “I’m sorry, what?” He says, and in most other circumstances Nicolo would find his poleaxed expression absolutely hilarious. “Could you repeat that?”

Offended that he might dare make light of the situation, Nicolo gives serious thought to stabbing him for the first time in years. “I said,” he grits out through clenched teeth, “that the only person I want sharing your bed is me.”

And alright, yes, _technically_ those were not his exact words, but the point was nevertheless the same, so he figures it counts.

Unfortunately, this is apparently a thought so horrifying to Yusuf as to render him weak in the knees. He collapses down onto the bed he’s been using as his own for these past few nights, his mouth initially moving yet with no sound coming out.

“But that can’t be right,” he says once he’s found his words again. His brow furrows like he’s trying to work out a particularly complicated puzzle. “You would have said something before now if it were true.”

Nicolo can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Why in God’s name would I?” He asks, shaking his head as his anger begins to give way to embarrassed mortification. There’s no way he can explain himself without revealing how truly pathetic he’s been of late.

“You’ve been throwing yourself at every suitable woman who so much as breathes in your direction for months now.” He says tiredly. “If that’s not a hint to say you’re not interested, I don’t know what it is.”

And with that Yusuf’s back on his feet in a flurry of wild exclamations and flailing limbs. “Not interested?” He barks, voice high enough that Nicolo takes an instinctive step backwards. “In what world are you living that you think I’m not interested?”

Nicolo stares at him, point blank refusing to acknowledge the traitorous wisp of hope that’s beginning to curl itself into his chest. “Well, this one, I suppose.” He says when it’s clear Yusuf is waiting for an answer. “Why else would you be carrying on the way you have been?”

He may not have as much experience in wooing people as Yusuf, but he is still relatively certain that sleeping with everyone under the sun except your intended is not the proper way to get your feelings across.

“I was trying to distract myself!” Yusuf yells then, waving his hands like that will somehow cause his words to make sense. “You never showed any sign you might feel the same way and I didn’t exactly relish the prospect of mooning over you for all eternity. I thought if I focused on others enough it might go away.”

“For the record,” he adds petulantly, as if Nicolo is somehow to blame, “it did not work.”

“Of course it didn’t,” honesty forces Nicolo to agree, “because it’s idiotic. So, what are you saying,” he continues on, ignoring Yusuf’s resulting flinch in favour of maybe reaching a resolution in this matter, “that you’d be open to the idea of me warming your bed?”

It’s not what he wants, of course, not even close, but maybe if they can find a mutually agreed upon starting point they can work their way up to what Nicolo actually desires.

Yusuf stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “No,” he says pointedly. “I’m saying I love you.”

Oh.

Well then.

That’s nice, Nicolo supposes.

Over an abrupt rushing in his ears, he forces himself to remain calm. “You love me,” he says. “Hmm. Perhaps it’s my tiny heathen brain getting confused, but on the surface I’d say you have a funny way of showing it.”

Yusuf sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I ... deserved that,” he says, voice raw and honest in a way that makes Nicolo want to grab him and never let go. “I’m sorry.”

Nicolo’s not willing to let him off the hook just yet, or at least he’s not until Yusuf explains that he’s never considered himself much of a prize, and didn’t think he was worthy of Nicolo’s affections. After that it’s clear that enough is enough.

“You,” he says, enunciating very clearly in the event that he inadvertently mumble and have Yusuf get confused again, “are the only prize I have ever wanted. I both love and adore you, you idiot.”

He wonders then if perhaps grand declarations of love are supposed to come with slightly fewer insults, but in the end decides to pay it no mind. Yusuf is the one who’s good with words, after all. Not the other way around.

Except Yusuf’s pretty words appear to be escaping him for the time being, meaning it’s up to Nicolo to get them over this last hurdle. Squaring his shoulders, he straightens to his full height and says, “You should kiss me. Right now before any other misunderstandings get in our way.”

*****

Yusuf kisses him.

And kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

By the time Nicolo comes back to himself enough to register what’s going on, he’s been kissed more thoroughly than he ever has before and still Yusuf is chasing his mouth like a parched man in a desert seeking water. 

Not wanting it to end, Nicolo holds on with equal desperation, laughing when Yusuf first hoists him up into the table for a better angle and then later dumps him unceremoniously onto the nearest bed so he can climb on top of him.

“You’re relentless,” Nicolo tells him, far more thrilled than he should be. “Why have we waited so long to do this?”

“Because we’re idiots who don’t know how to communicate,” Yusuf replies from where he’s straddling Nicolo’s hips. He looks up suddenly, and a shadow crosses his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that, and so did I,” Nicolo reminds him. “It’s done, though. Already forgiven and forgotten about.”

“Yes, but ,” Yusuf’s hands still where he has them rucked up underneath Nicolo’s shirt, his fingers splaying out over the soft skin of his sides. “We shouldn’t,” he says finally. “Not tonight.”

“Shouldn’t what?” Nicolo asks. Lifting his head further up off the pillow, he searches Yusuf’s face in an attempt to parse through his expression.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” he says when he realizes the meaning behind the words. He thumps Yusuf on the back of the head, feeling justified when the motion makes him grunt. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make you go sleep on the floor then.”

“Because I love you,” Yusuf tells him, already shifting to trace a line of kisses along the side of Nicolo’s throat. “I love you more than anything, so much so that I lack the words to describe it. I love you like a bird loves the open sky, like a lion loves the rolling plains, like a -“

Nicolo quickly slaps a hand over his mouth.

“You are doing an awful lot of talking for someone who supposedly lacks the words to say what he means,” he says, his face heating in the onslaught of Yusuf’s endearments.

“Yes, but none of what I’m saying is sufficient,” Yusuf insists, shoving the offending hand away. “Perhaps if we live a thousand years or more I will come up with something appropriate, but I doubt it.”

“And _that_ ,” he adds forcefully “is why I want to wait to make love to you. I need to do it properly. Somewhere that isn’t haunted by our stupidity and inadvertently hurt feelings. I will not have the first time tainted by something so tawdry.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nicolo tells him because what else can he say under the circumstances, “but if that’s how it’s to be, fine. You may have it your way. Now, get back over here and kiss me again.”

After all, if he has to wait a little longer, he should at least get something to reward him for his troubles.


End file.
